


Two Blind Birds on a Date

by moondragon23



Category: Psych
Genre: Blind Date, M/M, Romance, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-03-03 13:49:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2853065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moondragon23/pseuds/moondragon23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn is bored and Carlton is lonely and both of them are making Juliet's and Gus' lives miserable. To solve all of their problems, Juliet comes up with the idea of setting Shawn and Carlton up on a blind date. It's a recipe ripe for disaster unless the two stubborn men can settle their differences and give in to the sexual tension brewing between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Setup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [copyallcatsandacrobats (ordinaryalchemy)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ordinaryalchemy/gifts).



> I do not own Psych or any of its characters. All other publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. 
> 
> Merry Christmas everyone! This is actually a long overdue birthday fic for copyallcatsandacrobats. Sorry it is so late and happy belated birthday. I hope you like it.

Juliet watched as her partner stalked over to the coffee maker for his third cup of the day. Neither of them enjoyed being stuck at their desks doing paperwork but Carlton was extra grouchy today. She guessed his date the night before hadn’t gone well.

Looking away from her partner’s retreating back, she saw Gus heading for her desk. “Hi, Gus,” she said with a smile. She could use a break herself and she enjoyed talking with the pharmaceutical rep. “What are you doing here?”

“Shawn said he ‘sensed’ you guys would have a case for us,” Gus said.

Juliet shook her head. “Not today. We’re just doing paperwork.” She looked around the station. “Where is Shawn?”

“Spencer!”

Gus sighed. “You have to ask?”

They both turned towards the break room. Shawn had interrupted Carlton in his quest for more caffeine. She couldn’t see her partner’s face, but going from Shawn’s smirk and the tightness of her partner’s shoulders, she could imagine the scowl upon it.

“I don’t know why he always has to antagonize Lassiter but I’m glad for the break,” Gus grumbled. “Shawn has been driving me crazy.”

“Carlton has been getting on my nerves too,” Juliet admitted. “He actually snapped at me for typing too loud and yelled at McNab because his coffee didn’t have enough sugar in it.”

Carlton turned around and shouted at Shawn. Yup, there was that scowl. Juliet watched as the psychic stepped closer to Carlton. Her partner’s expression didn’t change but he clenched and flexed his hand, almost as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to hit Shawn or grab him.

Gus shook his head. “Shawn’s playing with fire today. He’ll be lucky to walk out of here in one piece, if Lassiter doesn’t throw him out first.”

“Carlton wouldn’t actually hurt Shawn,” Juliet said.

“He’s threatened to often enough,” Gus muttered.

Carlton shoved Shawn, forcing him back a few steps. As soon as he caught his balance, the younger man was right back in the detective’s face.

“Carlton had a date last night and I’m guessing it didn’t go well.” Juliet lowered her voice. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I think he’s lonely and the constant rejection hurts. That’s why he’s been lashing out at everyone the last few weeks.”

“I guess I can sympathize,” Gus said. “I haven’t had much luck on dates myself lately.”

Juliet reached out and took his hand. “I can’t imagine why. You’re a great guy.”

“You think so?” He glanced over at her and she suddenly noticed how close they were standing. She looked away nervously. Gus cleared his throat and took a step back. “Well, Shawn doesn’t have any excuse for his behavior. He’s just bored. We haven’t had a case in a couple weeks and while he’s been on plenty of dates, none of them have made it past the first date before he’s bored with them.”

“Sounds like we both have it rough,” Juliet said.

“Too bad we can’t send them off on a date together. That would solve both our problems,” Gus joked.

Carlton grabbed Shawn’s arm, leaning closer as he no doubt threatened him. To an outside observer, it could look like they were flirting.

Juliet blinked. Holy crap, they _were_ flirting! Why had she never seen that before? “Gus, is Shawn bi?”

“What? Why do you ask?” Gus crossed his arms and laughed nervously. “That’s ridiculous. Shawn has dated women, you know.”

Juliet rolled her eyes. “I know, that’s why I asked if he was bi, not gay. Carlton is.”

“Carlton is what?” Gus asked.

“Carlton’s bi.” She shrugged at Gus’ stunned expression. “He doesn’t really talk about his personal life much but it’s not really a secret. I know he’s dated a few men since we became partners. His date last night was with a guy.”

“Oh.” Gus looked at where their two partners were still arguing. “Shawn shares a lot about his dates. Sometimes too much.” He shuddered. “Trust me, he’s definitely bi.”

“Then maybe that’s the answer to our problem.” She waved at Carlton and Shawn. “Look at them.”

Shawn had extracted himself from Carlton’s grip and was leaning against the wall. To Juliet, it looked like he was putting himself on display. As they watched, Carlton braced one hand on the wall and leaned forward right into Shawn’s face. There wasn’t much room separating the two and Juliet half expected them to start kissing any moment.

“All I see is Shawn about to get himself a black eye,” Gus said skeptically.

Juliet sighed. “You’re not looking at them right. Trust me, this will work. You talk to Shawn, I’ll talk to Carlton. I’ll make a reservation for Mario’s Friday night at eight. By Monday morning, all our problems will be solved.”

Shawn was smirking up at Carlton as he spoke, playing with her partner’s tie. Carlton batted his hands away, then grabbed them and held them against Shawn’s sides.

Gus shook his head. “Twenty bucks says Lassiter ditches Shawn at the restaurant.”

Carlton let go of one of Shawn’s hands to poke him in the chest. Shawn reached up and grabbed it. Carlton leaned slightly towards Shawn, neither man saying anything for a moment. Then Carlton jerked his hand away. He gave Shawn one final shove against the wall and stormed off.

Juliet grinned. “You’re on.”

* * *

Juliet waited until Shawn had been gone for over an hour before broaching the subject with Carlton. “How was your date last night?”

Her partner scowled at her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on. I know you’re in a crappy mood. Maybe talking would help,” Juliet prodded.

Carlton sighed. “I thought it was going well until he went to the bathroom during the meal and never came back. When I went to look for him, I found him fucking our waitress.”

Juliet winced. “Carlton, I’m so sorry.”

Carlton shrugged. “I’ll get over it. I left him with the bill, after I ordered champagne for every couple in the place.”

“How devious,” Juliet said approvingly. “That’s almost like something Shawn would come up with.”

Carlton grimaced. “Please don’t compare me to that fraud.”

Juliet let him work on his paperwork in peace for a few minutes. “So I guess you don’t have any plans for Friday night.”

Carlton looked at her warily. “Why?”

“There’s a guy I think you would really hit it off with,” Juliet said.

Carlton shook his head. “I don’t need you to set me up on a blind date. I’m not that desperate.”

“I never said you were,” Juliet said consolingly. “I just think you and this guy – ”

“I said no, O’Hara, and that’s final,” Carlton said firmly.

Juliet huffed. This was not going as planned. She needed to find a way to get Carlton to the restaurant. “I’ll pay for dinner.”

“O’Hara – ”

“Please just think about,” Juliet said, interrupting him before he could argue some more. “I really think you’ll like him.”

Carlton closed his file and clasped his hands in front of him with his elbows resting on his desk. She waited patiently as he dutifully regarded her offer, knowing anything she said now would only hurt, not help. “What time?”

“Eight o’clock at Mario’s,” Juliet said. “So you’ll go?”

“Yes. I’ll go on the date provided you pay for the meal.” Carlton unclasped his hands and opened his file again. “That way when he bails on me, I won’t have to worry about footing the bill.”

“Trust me Carlton, he won’t run out on you,” Juliet promised. Shawn would never pass up a free meal, not to mention the chance to spend time with Carlton. She was more worried about Carlton leaving once he saw who his date was but she would pass that hurdle when she came to it.

She waited until Carlton was distracted before sending out a quick text to Gus. One down, one to go.

* * *

“Heads up!”

Gus ducked as a waded up ball of paper flew past his head. “Shawn, I’m trying to work!”

“And I’m trying to score 300 points at wastebasketball.” Another ball of paper flew across the room and bounced off the wall above his head before going through the hoop over the wastebasket. “Yahoo! 20 points!”

“Do you have to throw that over my head?” Gus asked.

“It’s worth more points that way.” Shawn groaned when Gus reached up and caught the next ball tossed at him. “Dude, that just cost me five points.”

“I don’t care. Bounce the balls off something else.” Gus tossed the ball towards the wastebasket and grinned when it went in.

“Fine.” Gus was able to work quietly for a couple of minutes before there was a crash from the other side of the room. “Oops!”

Gus sighed and closed his laptop. “I’ll get the dust pan.”

Once they had cleaned up the mess (a small ornamental cow figurine that a client had given them that had been perched on top of the fridge), they both returned to their desks. Gus reopened his laptop and Shawn grabbed a stress toy (the kind whose eyes bulged and tongue shot out when you squeezed it) off his desk.

His phone vibrated with a text from Juliet. **_Carlton’s on board. How about Shawn?_**

Gus sighed. This whole thing was a bad idea but he couldn’t back out now and disappoint Juliet. Plus, there was twenty dollars at stake.

“Who’s that?” Shawn asked.

“Juliet.” He put his phone down and looked over at Shawn. “Are you still going out with that girl? Trish, I think it was.”

Shawn shook his head. “Nah, she was just trying to make another guy jealous.”

“What about Keith?”

“Went back to Chicago.” Shawn tilted his head, looking at Gus suspiciously. “Why are you so interested in my sex life all of a sudden?”

“Trust me, I’m not,” Gus said quickly. He had learned his lesson after asking Shawn how his date with the yoga instructor went. The mental images still gave him nightmares. “I just wanted to know if you were seeing anyone.”

“Not right now.” Shawn raised an eyebrow. “Is this about the text you just got from Jules?” He dropped the stress toy and looked at Gus eagerly. “Does she want to go on a date?”

“No.” Shawn pouted, slumping back in his chair. “Stop moping, you didn’t have a chance with her anyway. But it _is_ about the text.”

“Well, spit it out, man,” Shawn said when Gus didn’t say anything else.

“There’s someone Juliet wants to set you up with,” Gus said slowly.

Shawn made a face. “Gus, you know how I feel about blind dates.”

“I know, but she’s positive this guy is your type,” Gus said.

“Wait, a guy? How does Jules know I like guys?” Shawn gave him an accusing look.

Gus winced. “It may have come up during a conversation at the station today.”

“This is why I don’t tell you things,” Shawn complained. “You can’t keep a secret.”

“What are you talking about? You tell me everything,” Gus said. More than he ever wanted to know, if he was being honest. “And for your information, she figured it out on her own. I just confirmed she was right.”

“I don’t tell you _everything_ ,” Shawn muttered. He grabbed his stress toy, squeezing it slowly. “So are you going to tell me what he’s like?” he asked, poking the toy’s tongue.

“I thought you didn’t like blind dates,” Gus said blandly. Inside he was cheering. It wouldn’t be long until Shawn agreed to go and he was on his way to being twenty dollars richer.

“I’m curious now,” Shawn said nonchalantly, though inside Gus knew he was frothing at the mouth to find out who he was. “Juliet must have told you something about him. Is he tall? Dark hair? Skinny?” For a horrible moment, Gus thought Shawn had figured out who it was. “Or is he short and heavy with blonde hair? Is he nice? What Breakfast Club character does he see himself as?” Shawn waved a hand. “Chime in at any time.”

“All you need to know is that Juliet thinks you like him and for some reason he likes you back,” Gus said.

“She thinks I ‘like’ him, not that I ‘will like’ him?” Shawn asked. “That implies that I know who he is and if she and I both know him you must know him too.” He slammed a hand down on his desk. “I demand to know who he is.”

Damn Shawn for being so perceptive. An average person might not have noticed the slip but of course he had to be talking to someone trained to be a cop since birth. “If you know, it won’t be a blind date,” Gus said. “Besides, it wouldn’t be fair. He won’t know who you are either.”

“Gus, come on,” Shawn whined. “Tell me.”

Maybe he could use his slip to his advantage. “You want to find out, go on the date,” Gus said. “Mario’s, this Friday at eight.”

Shawn gave him a long look. Gus held steady, determined not to cave to his friend this time. “Fine,” Shawn said, tossing his toy on the desk. “Tell Jules I’ll go.”

Gus texted Juliet, his triumph at convincing Shawn to go slowly turning into guilt. He was only doing this to win a bet. He completely believed this date was going to be a disaster. Was that really fair to Shawn?

A paper ball bounced off Gus’ head and into the trash bin. “50 points!”

Yep, totally fair.


	2. The Un-date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has been so long. Severe writer's block on this chapter and live kept getting in the way. But I know you don't want to hear my excuses, so on with the story. I hope you all enjoy it.

Shawn straightened his shirt, glancing in the reflective surface of the door to make sure he looked presentable. He had chosen a nice green button up shirt that complimented his eyes and dark blue, sinfully tight, jeans that showed off his ass. It was a bit underdressed for this type of place, but he was more comfortable like this. He hoped his date would approve. Some guys could be picky about their appearance.

Shawn sighed. That was why he hated blind dates. If he had met the person already, he would know what they were expecting out of him and what his chances were of getting lucky at the end of the night. Tonight, he had no idea if he would have any company other than his right hand (unless his left decided to get frisky). All he knew was that Juliet thought the guy liked him. Promising, but not a guarantee the night would go well.

The whole situation was made even more awkward by the fact that Juliet set this up. If it went badly she would feel guilty, which would make him feel guilty, so he would have to do his best to make sure this guy enjoyed himself. Even if it didn’t end up going anywhere.

Satisfied his appearance was perfect, he entered the restaurant. The place was fancy enough to have a maître d, which made it ten times more expensive than any other first date he had ever been on. He really hoped his date wasn’t cheap and he could convince him to pay for the meal. If not, he would have to stick to bread and water.

“Hi, Shawn Spencer? I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.” As Shawn waited for the maître d to check the book, he let his gaze wander over the restaurant. He had spent the last few days racking his brains, trying to figure out who Juliet was setting him up with. He was assuming the guy worked at the station since it had to be someone both he and Juliet knew. He had made a list of the all the guys he had ever shown even a passing interest in, then removed anyone Juliet might not know or disliked. That list he narrowed down further after some research, removing any one who was happily in a relationship or otherwise busy tonight. That left three candidates: Jeff in forensics, George in accounting, and Morty, Woody’s lab assistant. None of them were currently in the restaurant as far as he could tell, nor did he see anyone else he recognized, but maybe his date was running late.

“Ah, Mr. Spencer,” the maître d said, regaining his attention. “Your date arrived an hour ago and has already been seated. Let me show you the way.”

Shawn glanced at his watch. 8:02. Either this guy was _really_ eager to meet Shawn or he had a major thing about punctuality. He wasn’t sure either idea was comforting. He kept his eyes trained as he was led to the table and consequently saw his date before the man saw him. He faltered, wondering if this was a setup.

His date stood up when they reached the table and glared at him. “What are you doing here, Spencer?”

Shawn sighed. _Nope, definitely not getting laid tonight._ “Why, Lassie, is that any way to talk to your date?”

“Look, I don’t know how you found out about this, but you need to leave _now,_ before my real date gets here.” Lassiter pointed a figure menacingly at him. “I do not need you scaring them off.”

Shawn put a hand to his heart. “Lassie, I’m hurt you would even think that.”

“You did it two weeks ago.”

Shawn waved a hand. “That was an accident and it never would have worked out anyway. She was married.”

Lassiter turned to the maître d. “Could you please have this delusional man escorted from the restaurant?”

The maître d calmly faced the irate detective. “Normally I would be happy to, but Mr. Spencer is correct. He is indeed your date for this evening.”

“There must be some mistake,” Lassiter said.

The maître d shook his head. “There is no mistake, sir. Miss O’Hara was very clear when making the reservation whom it was for.”

“We’ll see about that,” Lassiter snapped, pulling out his cell.

“Could you give us a minute?” Shawn asked the maître d, pulling out his own phone.

“Of course.” The man stepped away a few paces to give them some privacy.

Shawn didn’t waste time on pleasantries once his friend answered the phone. “What the hell, man? _Lassiter’s_ my blind date!?”

“ _I take it things aren’t going well?_ ”

Shawn glanced over to where Lassiter was hissing into his phone, presumably to Juliet. “Judging by his skin tone, I would put this at an eight on the Lassie Anger Scale.”

Gus hissed in sympathy. “ _I haven’t seen him that mad since you spilled coffee all over his_ _freshly written reports_ _.”_

“That was an accident.” He had been snooping around for a case to solve and had knocked into the very full, very hot cup of coffee on the edge of the desk. “I did solve the case he was working on.”

“ _I don’t think that helped any._ ” Gus sighed. “ _Look, once Lassiter ditches you, why don’t you come over? No sense in ruining a perfectly good Friday night. I’ll order pizza and we can have a Knight Rider marathon._ ”

Shawn frowned. “You sound like you had this planned all along.”

“ _Pssh. No. Of course not_ ,” Gus said, laughing nervously. “ _Why would I set you up on a date if I thought it was going to fail?_ ”

Shawn gasped. “That is _exactly_ what you did! Dude!”

“ _It was all Juliet’s idea!_ ” Gus protested. “ _She’s the one with the crazy idea you two like each other. I personally think there is a better chance of Lassiter joining Greenpeace than ever going out with you._ ”

“Gee, thanks Gus,” Shawn said caustically.

“ _Come on, Shawn. It’s not like you actually like him._ ” There was a beat of silence as Gus waited for Shawn to agree. When he didn’t say anything, Gus said slowly, “ _Shawn, you don’t like Lassiter, right? Big angry detective, always trying to arrest you? Constantly trying to keep you off cases? Horrible at human interactions?_ ”

Shawn glanced over at Lassiter. He had calmed down some but he was still clutching the phone in a white-knuckled grip. “He’s not that bad.”

“ _Oh my God, Shawn, what is wrong with you? You can’t like Lassiter!_ ”

“It’s not like I chose to like him. It just. . . happened,” Shawn said, annoyed by how upset Gus sounded. What is really that horrible an idea? It wasn’t like Gus had the best track record himself; Lassiter was tons better than all the murderers his friend had flirted with over the years. “If you didn’t think I liked him, why did you even help set us up?”

Gus hesitated. “ _There may have been money involved._ ”

“Oh my God, you made a bet with Juliet. And you bet against me! What kind of friend _does_ that?” It completely went against the friend code that Gus himself had established in the fourth grade and just recently had a meeting to go over the terms and conditions of (Shawn had tuned him out after the first few words and discreetly played Angry Birds on his phone until Gus was done). Granted, he had made plenty of bets against Gus over the years but his friend didn't know about that.

Probably.

“ _A practical one_ ,” Gus said, not sounding in the least apologetic. _“This date is doomed._ ”

Shawn huffed. “Well, I’m going to stay. This is probably the only way I’ll ever get on a date with him and if I know Jules she’ll convince Lassie to stay.”

“ _Fine. But when this all ends badly, remember you could have been watching Knight and K.I.T.T. and eating_ _pizza_ _._ ”

Tempting, but there was something else he would much rather have for dessert; something hot and long and attached to his favorite gruff detective. He might never get another chance to try to get into the Lassiter's pants, or (since he always believed in dreaming big, hopefully _very_ big) the man into him. He ended the call and walked back to the table.

Lassiter was waiting for him, a sour look on his face. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered.

“Excellent.” The maître d stepped forward and placed a menu in front of each of them as they cautiously sat down across from each other. “Your waiter will be with you momentarily.” The man nodded to both of them before quickly walking away.

Shawn picked up his menu and glanced at Lassiter curiously. “Bribery or blackmail?”

Lassiter raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Did Jules bribe you to stay or did she blackmail you with something?” Shawn elaborated.

Lassiter scowled. “That is none of your business.”

Shawn nodded. “Blackmail then. Care to share? It must be something good to keep you here.”

“No.” Lassiter picked him his menu and stared at it intently.

Shawn pushed down the menu, forcing the detective to look at him. “Come on, we’re on a date. We’re supposed to be talking to each other. So, share.” He grinned. “I bet it’s something juicy.”

“No.”

Shawn shook his head sadly. “If this is how you treat all your dates, no wonder they all leave.”

Lassiter glared at him. “This is **not** a date.”

“Good evening, gentleman.” A fair haired young man approached their table. Shawn couldn’t help thinking he would have better luck with their waiter than his current date. “Can I start you off with any drinks?”

“Jack Daniels on the rocks,” Lassiter said immediately.

Shawn thought of his limited funds. No way was Lassiter going to help cover his share of dinner. “Just water for me, thanks.”

Their waiter nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

Lassiter was staring intently at the menu again, ignoring him, so Shawn glanced over it himself. His hunch about the pricey-ness of the food was spot on, unfortunately, and he tried to hunt down the cheapest item on the menu.

“Don’t worry about paying for dinner.”

Shawn glanced up from the list of salads (icky rabbit food, but some had meat in them and they were considerably cheaper than the entrees). “Why? Are you offering to cover my share?”

Lassiter snorted. “Absolutely not. O’Hara offered to foot the bill for both of us.”

Shawn deflated a bit but quickly rallied when he realized what this could mean. “Did she give you a limit?”

Lassiter thought for a moment, then grinned evily. “No, she didn’t.”

Shawn laughed. “Sweet! We’ll get our revenge for setting this up _and_ get to eat like kings.”

“At least I’ll get something good out of this evening,” Lassiter said, looking over the menu more eagerly.

Shawn tried not to take Lassiter’s comment too personally. He knew the detective didn’t like him but he was determined to change that over the course of dinner.

Their waiter returned and placed their drinks on the table. “Would you care to hear today’s specials?”

“That depends,” Shawn said, glancing over at Lassiter. “How expensive are they?”

* * *

It said a lot that his fake date with Shawn Spencer was not the worst date Lassiter had ever been on. That distinction would remain with the blind date with his own cousin before Lassiter was even out to his family. Add in the fact he got horribly drunk afterward and threw up on the church's nativity scene (the priest still said he was going to hell when he retold the story to his parishioners every year) and he doubted anything would beat that night.

Even so, it wasn’t even in the bottom five. The fake psychic had so far managed to keep the chattering to a minimum, likely because he was too busy stuffing his face with the obscene amount of food he had ordered. He felt a little thrill when he imagined O’Hara’s face when she saw the bill. It served her right for putting him in this situation.

He glared at Spencer as another piece of shell landed on his plate. “Would you stop flinging your food everywhere?”

“I think I have the hang of it now.” Spencer extracted the meat from what was left of the shell and dipped it into a small dish of butter. “For what it costs, I didn’t expect lobster to be so much work. It’s practically finger food.”

Lassiter agreed, which is why he had settled on a nice steak. Still expensive, but easier to eat. He removed the offending piece of shell and cut himself another bite. It was perfectly cooked and he made a note to come back here at some point on a real date.

Spencer cracked another lobster claw, thankfully keeping the explosion of shell contained to his side of the table this time. “You’re being awfully quiet, Lassie. Are you always like this on a date?”

“It’s not a date,” Lassiter said for the dozenth time. As if he would ever even consider dating the annoying psychic. He did have some standards.

“Then think of it as an un-date,” Spencer suggested.

Lassiter smirked. “I guess I can see you as the Mad Hatter.”

Spencer raised an incredulous eyebrow. “ _You_ know Alice in Wonderland?”

“It’s my nephew’s favorite book.” Lassiter frowned. “At least it was last time I saw him.”

“I didn’t know you had a nephew,” Spencer said. “You never talk about him.”

Lassiter shrugged. “I hardly see him now that my brother moved up to Sacramento.”

“Were you guys close?”

“Why do you care?” Lassiter asked suspiciously.

Spencer waved a shrimp liberally coated in cocktail sauce. A few drops splattered on the white tablecloth. “Jules talks about her family all the time but you never talk about yours. I was curious.” He somehow managed to get the smothered shellfish to his mouth without making any more mess.

Lassiter took a sip of his drink as he considered Spencer’s request. He wasn't ashamed of his family; he didn’t talk about them much because there wasn’t much to say. “My brother and I have never been close and Peter never seemed that thrilled to see me either.”

“Maybe because you’re not great with kids,” Spencer said with a smirk. “Juliet told me what happened with her nephews.”

Lassiter groaned. He was never going to live that down. “They should come with an instruction manual.”

“Kids are easy,” Spencer said. “Women are the ones who need the manuals. Hell, an entire book. It’s why I only date them half the time.”

It took a moment for Lassiter to understand what he was saying. “You’re bi?” he asked in surprise.

Spencer grinned. “Don’t sound so shocked. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“I thought O’Hara might have told you your date was a woman,” Lassiter said. He really shouldn’t have been so surprised Spencer was bi; he flirted with almost everyone he met.

_Including you_ , a little voice said in the back of his mind. He quickly squashed it.

“Is that what she told you?” Spencer asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lassiter considered lying but knew Spencer would somehow find out anyway. “No.”

Spencer’s grin widened. “See, I’m learning more about you already.”

Lassiter huffed. “It’s still not a date. Or an un-date,” he added quickly as Spencer opened his mouth to interrupt, “or anything else with date in it.”

Spencer tilted his head. “What is this then?”

“Dinner.”

Spencer nodded. “I can work with that.”

There were a few blessed minutes of silence while both men ate before Spencer spoke again. “Say this was a date.” He held up his hands to stall Lassiter’s protests. “Just hear me out a minute. You must have been pretty desperate to let Jules set you up with someone, so obviously your dates haven’t been going well.”

“You're here too,” Lassiter pointed out.

Spencer nodded. “True, mostly because I was curious who Juliet was trying to set me up with. I don't have any problem finding a date. It's trying to avoid them afterward that's the problem.”

“Can't settle for just one person?” Lassiter said nastily.

He was surprised when Spencer flushed slightly and looked away. “Something like that. Anyway, since we are both stuck here, you might as well get some practice.” He rubbed his hands together and looked eagerly at Lassiter. “Pretend I'm your date.”

“No.”

Spencer sighed. “Come on, Lassie. I can't help you if you don't cooperate.”

“Fine. You're my _pretend_ date,” Lassiter said, putting great emphasis on the word 'pretend.'

“Good. Now, what do you tell people when they ask about your job?”

Lassiter puffed his chest out proudly. “I tell them I'm Head Detective for the Santa Barbara Police Department.”

Spencer grinned. “Couldn't just say you're a cop, could you? Not that your whole job title isn't impressive, so I'll let it slide. Next, what would you say is the best part about the job?”

“That's easy,” Lassiter said. “Catching scum bags and killers so they can experience the heavy hand of justice.”

“And?” Spencer sighed with disappointment when Lassiter looked at him blankly. “ _People_ , Lassie. You catch scum bags and killers so they can experience the heavy hand of justice  _and_ to keep people safe. The women especially like it if you go the whole protect and serve route. Most of the guys too.”

“I thought you didn't know anything about women,” Lassiter said grumpily.

“I know enough to get them on a date with me,” Spencer said. “Now, what would you say was your most important case?”

Lassiter thought for a moment. He usually went with his arrest of Johnnie Malik, a key player in the drug trade. His arrest had disrupted drug trafficking in the area for months and led to several other arrests,  b ut Spencer was going to want something more people oriented. “The Back Bay Killer.”

Spencer nodded approvingly. “Excellent choice. Now explain why.”

“He was a serial killer. Really gruesome murders too. Part of the reason he was called the Back Bay Killer was the symbols he would carve into the victim's backs. Though that didn't kill them. See, he had this hooked blade – ”

“Lassie, stop!” Spencer held up a hand, looking slightly green. “I know how he killed and that is definitely not something you discuss with your date over dinner.” He looked down at his plate and sadly pushed it away. “I guess at least you didn't draw a diagram like with the clown story.”

Lassiter was going to have a long talk with O'Hara about what was appropriate to share about one's partner, especially to an annoying consultant. “What would you say about the case th e n?”

“I would focus on your heroic rescue of the last victim.”

Lassiter frowned. “There were a dozen officers there that night. It's not like I took him down singlehandedly. I wasn't even the one that cuffed him.”

Spencer sighed and shook his head. “Again,  _people_ Lassie. You dove out into the middle of a fire fight to keep that young woman safe. Hell, you even got shot for it. Very impressive  I might add .”

“It was just a graze,” Lassiter protested. “And any other officer would have done it.”

Spencer gave him a steady look. “No, they wouldn't have. Why do you think I always call you and Jules when I'm in trouble? I can count on you to save me even if it's dangerous.”

That was unexpected. He had assumed Spencer called him just to annoy him when he got in over his head. He hadn't realized it was because Spencer trusted him so much. He was getting very uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going and was glad when their waiter showed up.

“Did you enjoy the meal, gentlemen? Would you care to see the desert menu?”

Lassiter glanced at his plate, surprised so see he had finished his meal while they were talking. “It was very good, thank you.”

“Excellent, if a bit messy,” Spencer said, picking a bit of lobster shell off his shirt. “I would like to see the dessert menu. Do you have chocolate cake?”

The waiter handed over the menu. “We have a devil's food triple layer cake with a mousse icing topped with shaved chocolate curls.”

Spencer was almost drooling. “Yes, that. I want that.”

“Just coffee for me,” Lassiter said. He eyed Spencer with amusement as the waiter walked away. “I thought you lost your appetite.”

“Pssh,” Spencer said, waving his hand. “I always have room for cake.”

Conversation tapered off as they waited for dessert and Spencer tried to get as much shell off his clothes as he could. Lassiter almost told him about the piece in his hair but decided it would be more entertaining not to. It was a comfortable silence that Lassiter was reluctant to break, but after being interrogated for much of the meal he felt it was only fair he got to ask some questions. “What about you?” he asked once the waiter returned and Spencer started eating his cake. “What do you tell your dates about your job?”

Spencer scooped a bit of icing on his fork and slowly licked it off. Lassiter found himself distracted as he watched the pink tongue drag along the tines of the fork and almost missed his answer. “Depends on the person. Some I tell I'm a psychic for the SBPD.”

Lassiter jerked his gaze away and took a quick sip of his coffee. He gritted his teeth as he burned his tongue and ignored Spencer's smirk. “What about the rest?”

Spencer shrugged. “Some I tell I worked for NASA. Some I tell I toured with Twisted Sister. Sometimes I keep it simple and say I worked for the third richest man in the country.”

Lassiter snorted. “So you lie to them. Great relationship advice.”

Spencer shook his head. “It's not really lying, more stretching the truth. I was a janitor for NASA for three weeks.” He made a face. “Let me tell you, you do not want to be the one to clean out the simulators after the rookies get through with them. I hitched a ride with Twisted Sister between Albany and Detroit in '03 and lugged gear for two shows.” He grinned. “And I did work for the third richest man in the country but I'm not allowed to disclose any details from that time period.”

Lassiter knew from the background check he had done on Spencer when he was planning to arrest him that the man had had a lot of jobs but it seemed there were a lot more that never made it into the official record. “I'm surprised you've stuck with the psychic crap so long given your track record.”

“I've never had a job I liked as much as this one, and it's great being back home.” Spencer shook his head with a bitter smile. “Never thought I would ever say that when I left.”

Lassiter knew Spencer's parents had split while he was in high school. He guessed his home life hadn't been that great. He could certainly relate. He cleared his throat and looked down at his coffee. “I can understand wanting to run. My dad left when I was nine. My mom had to work two jobs after that and it became my job to watch after my sister and brother.”

“That's why you and your brother don't get along?” Spencer asked.

Lassiter nodded. “He's only two years younger than me and didn't like that I was in charge. I'm still close to my sister though.”

“The closest thing I ever had to a sibling is Gus. It's why I came back to Santa Barbara in the first place.” Spencer snorted. “God knows it wasn't to see my dad.”

“You get along better with him than I do my mother,” Lassiter said with a trace of bitterness. “She hasn't spoken to me since she found out about the divorce.”

Spencer tilted his head. “Does she have a problem with you being bi?”

Lassiter shook his head. “No, she's a lesbian so that would be hypocritical,  b ut she's always wanted more grandchildren and she was pissed I never told her we split up.”

“You never can make parents happy,” Spencer said wisely.

“You know that's right,” Lassiter said. Spencer grinned suddenly, making Lassiter nervous. “What?” he asked slowly.

“We just had a meaningful conversation without insults or threats,” Spencer said. “Not bad for two people who hate each other on a not-date.”

“I don't hate you,” Lassiter said. “I find you annoying and childish and sometimes have the desire to strangle you, but I don't hate you.”

“Aww, Lassie.” Spencer wiped an imaginary tear away from his eye. “That was really sweet. You're such a softy.”

“I think this dinner is done.” Lassiter looked around for their waiter and jumped when he found the man right next to him. “Do you know how dangerous it is sneaking up on someone with a gun?” he snapped.

Spencer raised an eyebrow. “You brought you're gun on a blind date?”

“Of course. I didn't know what kind of crazy, desperate person O'Hara had set me up with.” He took the check from the waiter and winced. He was mad at O'Hara for setting this up but he wasn't sure if he was _this_ mad. With a sigh, he pulled out his credit card along with the one O'Hara had given him for the meal. “Split it between both of these.”

“Of course, sir.” The waiter bowed and left.

Spencer looked at him curiously. “You're not going to make me help pay too?”

Lassiter  waved his hand dismissively . “I know you don't have enough.” 

Spencer nodded slowly. “I don't, but I thought you would have made me cough up what I had and threaten me later for the rest.”

“If it bothers you so much, you can pay me back,” Lassiter snapped irritably. In truth, he didn't know why he hadn't asked Spencer. It wasn't because he thought this was a date; he usually asked his dates to pay for their share of the meal, which for some reason made most of them upset. He felt it was only fair since they ate half of the food,  b ut this time it hadn't even crossed his mind.

“Well, at least you got this part of the date right,” Spencer said. “A gentleman should always pay for the ladies meal.”

Spencer was  _not_ a mind reader, though times like this made Lassiter question it. “What if you're dating a guy?”

“Then you fight over it unless your planning on making it up to him later.” Spencer fluttered his lashes at him and Lassiter came to the conclusion Spencer didn't pay for many meals when he was with a guy. The thought left him strangely uncomfortable.

The waiter returned so Lassiter could sign for the check. Once he left, Lassiter threw some money on the table for a tip (more than he normally would because they had made a bit of a scene when Spencer had arrived) and nodded at Spencer. “Well, this wasn't as horrible as I thought it would be. Good night, Spencer.” Not waiting for the other man to respond or get up, he left. He wasn't fleeing because the un-date was drifting into uncomfortable territory, he just didn't see a reason to wait around when he had to be into work early the next day.

He was halfway to his car when he realized Spencer was following him. “What do you want?” he asked, turning to face him.

Spencer looked down and scuffed his shoe on the pavement. “I need a ride.”

“How did you get here?”

“I took the bus. And before you ask, they don't run this late.” Spencer rubbed the back of his neck. “I was sort of hoping whoever Juliet set me up with would want to continue things after dinner.”

Lassiter sighed. “Fine. Get in. I'll drive you home.”

Spencer grinned and hopped into the car. “Thanks, Lassie.”

The ride to Spencer's apartment was unusually quiet. Spencer didn't say anything besides a few directions, spending the rest of the time staring out the window. After the chatterbox he had been during dinner, Lassiter found it very strange.

When he pulled up in front of Spencer's apartment building, the quiet tension in the car spiked. To distract himself, he glanced out the window at the building. “Nice place.” The area was a lot nicer than Lassiter had been expecting and the building looked well maintained.

Spencer shrugged. “I got lucky. Helped out the landlord with a problem tenant awhile back and he gave me a break on the rent.” He twisted in the seat to face him and smiled. “Thanks for the ride.”

“You’re welcome,” Lassiter said.

Spencer glanced at him, than looked away. “Okaaaay, this is getting awkward, so I’m going to go.”

Lassiter nodded in agreement. “Good night, Spencer.”

“Good night, Lassie.” Spencer started to open the door, then turned around and kissed him lightly on the lips. Before Lassiter could react, Spencer pulled away and got out of the car.

Lassiter pressed his fingertips against his lips. “Don’t do it, Lassiter,” he muttered to himself as he watched Spencer walk up to his building. There was no way it could work out; this was _Spencer_ for God’s sake. Sure, they had just enjoyed a fairly pleasant meal together but a relationship couldn’t be based on an uneasy tolerance for each other.

_What about physical attraction?_ his mind supplied. He couldn’t keep denying there was something about Spencer that tugged at his libido and made him react less rationally at times. There were also the dreams and several jerk off sessions in his shower he tried to pretend never happened. If he wanted further proof, the kiss, though brief, had sent a jolt straight to his cock.

He wanted Spencer. Ignoring it hadn't worked, so maybe it was time to give him. Maybe after indulging for a night he could get the annoying psychic out of his system. It's not like he could expect Spencer to stick around for more than that anyway, even if he wanted to. Which Lassiter certainly did not. Spencer was annoying and childish and always had a stupid 80's reference and constantly showed him up with brilliant insights and a charming smile.

Lassiter forced his mind back on track. No, it would never work between them. One night to scratch his annoying itch then business as usual. Part of him realized he was just rationalizing his desire to screw his reservations and screw Spencer but the rest of him didn't care. He got out of the car and hurried up the walkway. “Spencer!”

Spencer stopped and turned around. “What is it Lassie? Finally giving in to my charms and good looks?”

Yes, that was exactly it, though Spencer had said it teasingly. Lassiter wasn’t about to admit that to him. In fact, he wasn’t sure what to say. Spencer was staring at him, confusion and, yes, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Lassiter stepped closer until they were almost touching. “If you’re going to give a good night kiss, do it right,” Lassiter said before bringing their lips together for a bruising kiss.

Spencer moaned into his mouth, hands clutching his shoulders. He ran his tongue along Spencer's lips and the other man immediately opened up for him, whimpering as Lassiter explored his mouth. Once hand wrapped around Spencer's waist to hold him close, the other slipped through his hair, tugging hard to get Spencer's mouth tilted at the correct angle. Spencer groaned and shuddered at the sudden pain and if anything became even more eager.

They eventually had to stop to breathe, parting only inches and staring into each other's eyes. They were still standing out in front of Spencer's apartment building where anyone could see them but Lassiter couldn't look away to see if they were being watched.

“Come inside?” Spencer asked breathlessly.

This time Lassiter didn't hesitate. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up longer than I expected, so there will be one more chapter. I'm putting the final edits on it now and I'll post it in a couple of days.


	3. Resolved Sexual Tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Got a promotion at work and life has been pretty hectic the last few weeks. But here it is, finally, the last chapter. I hope this was worth the wait and please, enjoy.

Shawn tried to calm his nerves as he led Lassiter up to his apartment. He'd had guys over before so he shouldn’t be freaking out this much. Of course, none of those guys carried a gun (well, except for one but it was loaded with peach schnapps so it didn’t really count). None of the other guys had ever threatened to arrest him either (though handcuffs had been used a number of times).

He shook his head, trying not to get distracted by thoughts of Lassiter cuffing him to the headboard (and fucking his brains out) and concentrated on making it up the stairs. He could feel the detective following closely behind him, just as eager to get there as he was.

He fumbled with his keys when he reached his door, anticipation making his hands shake. He huffed in annoyance and glared at Lassiter when the man chuckled. “This would be easier without you hovering over me.”

Instead of giving him space, Lassiter moved closer. “If you don't want to put on a show in the hallway, you better get that door open now.”

Shawn swallowed hard. He would have dropped the keys and let Lassiter fuck him right there if he thought the man was serious (he had a bit of a thing for public sex). Instead, he took a deep breath and grabbed his keys in both hands to steady them. He finally got the door unlocked and stepped inside.

Seconds after they entered his apartment, Shawn found himself shoved against the wall, Lassiter eagerly devouring his lips. The detective's tongue thoroughly explored his mouth as his hands slipped under Shawn's shirt. He moaned, reaching out to tug at Lassiter's clothes. There were _way_ too many layers between them. He wanted them pressed skin to skin, with nothing in the way so he could explore the hot, studly cop in front of him.

He got distracted as Lassiter's lips moved to his neck and started sucking up what was sure to be an impressive hickey. His cock, which had been half hard since their kiss outside, was now pressing painful against his zipper, making him regret going commando. He wouldn't be surprised if the impression from the metal wound up permanently etched on his dick. He could feel Lassiter's own hard cock pressing against his thigh. He grabbed the detective's hips, lining them up and grinding against him.

They both moaned loudly, Lassiter's hands moving to his own hips to help keep them move. “Bedroom?” the detective asked roughly.

Shawn nodded his head down the hallway. “That way.”

Lassiter suddenly pulled away and gave Shawn a shove. “Move.” He kept close on Shawn’s heels as they walked down the hallway, only pulling back once they entered the bedroom. “Strip.”

“One word orders. How very caveman of you,” Shawn taunted even as he struggled to get his shirt off. His fingers would not cooperate with the buttons and he finally just tugged the whole thing over his head, ignoring the button that went flying across the room. He started working on his jeans as he glanced over at Lassiter and immediately froze.

The detective had removed his jacket and holster and had unbuttoned half his shirt, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of chest hair. His own pants forgotten, he stumbled across the room and reached for the shirt, determined to bare more of that firm, hairy chest.

His hands were slapped away. “You're still half dressed.”

Shawn pouted. “But I want to help.” Seeing the detective had the shirt well in hand, he reached for his pants.

Again his hands were pushed away. “What part of strip didn't you understand?” Lassiter asked, narrowing his eyes.

Lassiter annoyed or angry had always been hot, but Lassiter annoyed or angry in his _bedroom_ was a whole other thing. Unable to resist the temptation to push Lassiter, he reached for his pants again.

He suddenly found himself on his back on the bed with Lassiter looming over him. He shivered. _So incredibly hot_. “I should cuff you here until you learn to behave,” Lassiter growled.

Shawn nodded eagerly. “Yes, please.”

Lassiter shook his head. “You haven't earned it.”

Shawn wanted to ask what he could do to earn such a right but was immediately sidetracked when Lassiter tugged on his jeans. “Lift up.” Shawn quickly lifted his hips, letting Lassiter pull of his jeans off. Now lying completely naked on his bed, he stroked his cock and smiled coyly up at the detective. “Like what you see?”

Lassiter gave a predatory grin. “Very nice.” The detective climbed on top of Shawn, taking his mouth in another demanding kiss as he lowered his body against him.

Shawn hissed as the fabric of Lassiter's pants rubbed against his aching cock. “You really need to take these off,” he said, trying to get a hand between them.

Lassiter knocked his hand away. “Not yet.” He moved down Shawn's body until his face was even with Shawn's cock. Shawn held his breath as Lassiter studied him before slowly licking a strip up his length. Lassiter's tongue circled the tip, tapping gently against the sensitive spot under the head, before he took Shawn's cock into his mouth.

Shawn cried out, his hands curling in Lassiter's hair. He didn't try to guide the detective, merely hanging on as that surprisingly talented mouth tormented him. He tried to keep still, but as Lassiter took him deeper he couldn't help moving his hips a little. He mentally berated himself when Lassiter pulled away.

He was expecting to be yelled at again, so he was surprised at the hooded, lustfilled gaze turned on him. “Condoms? Lube?”

Shawn blinked, his sex addled brain taking several moments to process the words. He waved a hand to the left. “Top drawer.”

Lassiter nodded. “Roll over.”

Shawn wiggled over on the bed, trying to get comfortable as Lassiter grabbed the supplies. He tossed them on the bed next to Shawn then stepped behind him. Shawn twisted to watch him, eager to see Lassiter in his full naked glory.

A slap on his ass made him stop. He jumped, biting back a groan. “Eyes forward Spencer.”

“But I want to see,” Shawn complained.

“If you don't get up on your hands and knees and keep your eyes forward, this ends now,” Lassiter threatened.

Shawn almost turned his head to give Lassiter an incredulous look but stopped himself just in time. “Seriously? You would just walk out?”

“I'm waiting.”

Not wanting to miss out on finally having sex with Lassiter, he got on his hands and knees and dutifully kept his eyes forward. He heard the jingle of a belt and the slide of fabric, indicating that Lassiter was now fully naked behind him. The temptation to look was almost overwhelming but he wasn't going to chance Lassiter actually leaving. He let out a deep breath, shifting restlessly on the bed as he felt Lassiter climb on behind him.

He heard the snap from the tube of lube opening seconds before two fingers were roughly shoved into him. He yelped, more from the cold temperature of the lube than any discomfort from being opened so rudely. “A little warning would have been nice,” he complained.

“You can take it,” Lassiter said unconcernedly. The detective’s fingers quickly spread the lube and stretched him, sending fissures of pleasure through Shawn. A third finger caused a hiss of pain at first before his body relaxed again and submitted to Lassiter's ministrations.

Lassiter's free hand smoothed over his back. “You don't know how many times I've imagined you like this, bent over, waiting to be used. Waiting for me to take what I want.” Lassiter's fingers pulled away and Shawn couldn't help but whimper at the loss. He spread his legs and wiggled his hips as he heard the rip of the condom. “I always knew you were a slut,” Lassiter said as he positioned himself at Shawn's entrance.

Shawn groaned as Lassiter pushed inside, any protest forced out of his mind as the detective’s cock spread him wide. Sweet Baby Jay, where the hell had Lassiter been hiding _this_? He knew the detective was well hung from frequent groping during visions but he had seriously underestimated just how huge Lassiter was. He panted hard, trying to relax as the thick cock moved deeper inside him.

“Damn you’re tight,” Lassiter muttered.

Shawn huffed. “You're big.”

“And only halfway in,” Lassiter said, pushing forward more firmly.

“Half?!” Shawn squeaked. He already felt full to bursting; he wasn't sure how much more he could take. He spread his legs some more, groaning deeply as Lassiter slowly slid the rest of his gargantuan cock inside him.

“Still think the guns are compensating for something?” Lassiter asked.

Shawn was deeply regretting making that comment earlier in the week. He never would had said it had known about the monster the detective had been packing in his pants. “Only if you know how to use it,” he said, unable to avoid the taunt even in the precarious position he was in.

Lassiter chuckled darkly and leaned over to growl in his ear. “You have no idea.”

Shawn's breath whooshed out with a squeak as Lassiter roughly pulled out and slammed back into him. With barely a pause the detective did it again, and again, setting up a punishing rhythm as he pounded into Shawn's body.

Shawn fisted the sheets, whimpering with each thrust. Lassiter hadn't given him enough time to adjust to his impressive girth and each shove forward stretched him painfully. Yet there was pleasure there as well, the mix of the two short circuiting his brain. As his muscles finally started to relax and the pleasure won out, he found himself pushing back to meet every one of Lassiter's harsh thrusts.

“No comments? No pithy remarks?” Lassiter chuckled, the odd vibration causing Shawn to shiver. “I expected more talking during sex.”

Shawn shook his head. “Too much,” he gasped out.

Lassiter slowed. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Shawn shouted frantically, pushing back and squeezing down hard on Lassiter's cock to encourage him to continue.

Lassiter groaned and his hands tightened on Shawn's hips. “Good, because I don't plan to.” He started thrusting again, somehow even harder and faster than before.

Shawn had no breath left to respond, so he lowered his upper body to the bed (not that his arms could hold him up that much longer anyway). The new angle allowed Lassiter to penetrate deeper and had the added pleasure of Lassiter's cock rubbing firmly against his prostate. He could feel his orgasm quickly growing and snaked one hand down to grab his own cock.

Lassiter grabbed him by the wrist. “No.”

Shawn whimpered. “ _Lassie_.”

“Not until I say so.” Lassiter let out a growl as he grabbed Shawn's other wrist as it headed towards his cock. He pressed Shawn's hands firmly into the bed at his sides and leaned over him, his hips still moving in that forceful, wonderful rhythm. “You come when I feel you deserve it.”

Shawn squeezed his eyes shut as the pleasure continued to grow. Would Lassiter punish him if he came early? Probably. Did he care? Surprisingly, yes. He had played domination games before, but Lassiter took things to a whole new level. He would hold on as long as he could, though he suspected that wouldn't be much longer.

Lassiter's hands gripped his hips hard as he adjusted the angle of his thrusts. Now each one smacked dead center into Shawn's prostate. He let out a whimpering groan, not sure how much more he could take. The detective was not playing fair. “Lassie, _please_.”

“Not yet,” the detective panted. He could feel the shift in Lassiter's thrusts as the detective headed for his own release. “When I say.”

“I can't,” Shawn whined. His hands were free now but he gripped the sheets tightly instead of giving himself relief. He wouldn't touch but the pressure was building up quickly enough he was going to come from Lassiter's cock alone if the detective didn't stop.

He prayed he wouldn't stop.

His whole body tensed as he neared his release and Lassiter must have sensed he couldn't hold back any longer. The detective grabbed his cock, stroking twice before he came. His whole body convulsed, clamping down hard enough on Lassiter's cock the detective had to stop moving. He cried out as his cock spurted, soaking the sheets underneath him in his cum. It went on forever, the world blanking out except for Lassiter pressed against him, his hard cock in his ass and his hand milking Shawn's cock of every last drop. He gave a shuddering gasp when it was finally over, his body slumping limply to the bed.

Lassiter pulled out of him and shoved Shawn until he somehow managed to roll over. He shook his head as Lassiter lifted his legs and groaned when the detective slid back inside him. “No more Lassie,” he protested.

Lassiter started thrusting, less forcefully than before but no less deep. “You can take it. You always take all the crap I dish out and keep coming back for more. You’re not going to stop now.”

Shawn whimpered, his over-sensitive nerves sending a mix of pain and pleasure flooding through him. It was almost too much to take but he was determined to hang on until Lassiter finished. He hitched his hips up, giving Lassiter a better angle.

Lassiter’s hands dug into his flesh as he pounded into his body. The detective’s brow was furrowed in concentration, his whole body tense as he fought to reach his climax. He glanced up at Shawn’s face then quickly away, his hands gentling for a moment before his grip tightened and his pace increased.

The lyrics to a Kinks song ran through Shawn’s mind and he suddenly understood why Lassiter was holding back, why he didn't want this to end yet. He reached up to touch the side of Lassiter’s face, surprising the detective into meeting his gaze. “You got me. I’m yours.”

Lassiter thrust once, twice, then dropped his head, choking out a yell as he shuddered through his release. Shawn moved his hand to rub the back of Lassiter’s neck as the detective panted above him. After a moment, Lassiter slowly pulled out and flopped next to him on the bed.

Shawn stared up at the ceiling, deciding there was no way he was ever moving again. He had zero energy left and the bed was nice and comfy. Lassiter could make food for him and feed him and Gus could fetch him things. He wiggled a bit and grimaced. Would be nicer without the wet spot he was lying in. He looked sideways to where Lassiter was sprawled out next to him. He had to admit the view was great though.

Lassiter seemed to sense him staring. He glanced over at Shawn, then quickly looked away. “We should clean up.” He sat up and grimaced when he noticed the condom still on his dick. Shawn could relate; he hated the feel of the cooling, sticky latex clinging to his cock after sex. Lassiter carefully removed it and threw it in the trash can next to the bed (which may or may not have been overflowing; Shawn hoped it hadn't bounced out onto the floor). He came around the bed to Shawn and reached down a hand to help pull him up.

“I got it,” Shawn said, pushing himself up from the bed. His legs immediately gave out and only Lassiter’s quick reflexes kept him from landing in a heap on the floor. “Okay, ow.”

“Stay here, I’ll get something to clean you up,” Lassiter said, trying to get Shawn back on the bed.

“I can make it,” Shawn said stubbornly. He was already on his feet and the bathroom wasn’t that far. He would need to change the sheets or at least clean them before he went to sleep so he had to remain vertical for a bit anyway.

“You shouldn’t push yourself. Give your body a chance to recover,” Lassiter said.

Shawn rolled his eyes. The more Lassiter protested, the more he was determined to prove him wrong. “We had sex. Yeah, I’m sore but it’s not like I’m on my sick bed or anything.” His legs were too numb and rubbery to make the trip on his own so he got a good grip around Lassiter’s shoulders and pointed toward the bathroom. “Now, mush boy!”

Lassiter gave him a dirty look but thankfully kept a hold of him. The detective led Shawn to the bathroom much slower than he thought was necessary but his legs were still shaking by the time they got there. He let go of Lassiter to lean on the counter, willing his legs to keep holding him up. Damn, he had never been this weak after sex before. He grinned. _Cool_.

Lassiter grabbed a wash cloth and quickly wiped himself down. When he was done, he grabbed a fresh cloth and approached Shawn. “Stay still.”

Shawn shivered as Lassiter ran the cloth gently over his flesh. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning you up.” Lassiter carefully wiped him down, the actions feeling clinical and impersonal. It was a far cry from the passionate touches of only minutes ago and was quickly starting to skive Shawn out.

Shawn grabbed the cloth from Lassiter's hand. “I can do it.”

Lassiter frowned. “I don’t want you to strain yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Shawn said irritably. “I’ve wiped my ass for most of my life. I think I can handle it.”

Lassiter nodded stiffly. “I’ll just leave you to it then.”

Shawn watched the other man leave the room and sighed. This wasn’t how it was supposed to work out. Things were supposed to be better now that they finally got rid of all that sexual tension between them. Instead, Lassiter was even more tense and prickly than before.

He cleaned himself up, happy that his legs seemed to be supporting him better now. He could still tell he would be incredibly sore tomorrow. He didn’t mind if that was the price he had to pay for such amazing sex.

He stared at himself in the mirror, idly noticing the hickey on his neck, various bruises, and a bite on his shoulder he didn’t remember getting. He couldn’t figure out what was going on in Lassiter’s head. It had just been sex, well, great fantastic amazing sex but still just sex. There was no reason for Lassiter to freak out.

_Isn’t that what you are doing?_ a part of his brain asked.

“Shut up,” Shawn muttered.

_And it wasn’t_ _**just** _ _great sex. There was something more there and that scares you._

Shawn snorted. “I’m not afraid.”

_Then why are you in the bathroom talking to yourself instead of out there with him?_

Shawn hated when his brain was right. He threw the damp cloth in the hamper and went out to confront Lassiter. He stopped short in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

Lassiter finished pulling the fitted sheet off the bed, adding it to the pile of bedding already on the floor. “Changing the sheets. Where do you keep the clean ones?”

“Top shelf of the closet.” He watched Lassiter cross the room and pull out a fresh pile of bedding. “Why are you changing the sheets?”

“Because they were dirty.” Lassiter separated the fitted sheet from the pile and started spreading it out.

“Let me help,” Shawn said, moving slowly over to the bed.

“I got it,” Lassiter said brusquely. He yanked the sheet out from under Shawn’s hand when he reached for it. “I said I can handle it. Just stand back. Rest.”

“No.” Shawn grabbed for the sheet but Lassiter held it out of reach. “Damn it, Lassie! You barely so much as gave me the time of day before tonight and now you’re bending over backwards to do things for me. What gives?”

Lassiter concentrated on spreading the sheet smoothly over the bed. “It’s the least I can do after what I did.”

“What, fucking me into oblivion?” Shawn snorted. “Trust me, that is _not_ something you need to apologize for.” He grabbed the next sheet off the floor. “I made half of this mess, so I’m going to help clean it up.”

“I don’t need help,” Lassiter said with a stubborn glare.

“It will get done faster with two people,” Shawn pointed out. “Then we can both relax.”

Lassiter glanced over at him. “Fine,” he said grudgingly.

With both of them working on it, the bed was made quickly. Still, by the end Shawn’s legs were shaking again and his lower back was sore from the way he was stretching. He stretched out in the middle of the bed, letting out a sigh of relief as his tense muscles relaxed.

Lassiter walked away and picked his pants off the floor. Shawn lifted his head. “Are you leaving?”

Lassiter kept his gaze firmly on the pants. “I thought it might be best.”

“I’d rather you stayed,” Shawn said quietly.

Lassiter looked up, clearly fighting an internal battle in his head. After a few seconds, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dropped the pants back on the floor. He put the phone on the night stand and carefully climbed into the bed next to Shawn. As soon as the detective stopped moving, Shawn rolled over until he was sprawled on top of him. He shifted until he was comfortable and sighed happily. “Much better.”

Lassiter lay stiffly under him, not twitching a muscle as Shawn got settled. His hands were clenched into fists at his side and his jaw was set stubbornly as he stared up at the ceiling. Shawn sighed, guessing what was wrong. “Stop feeling guilty.”

Lassiter’s eyes flicked down to him, then back up to the ceiling. “Who said I was?”

Shawn poked his side. “The way you’re all tense when you should be nice and relaxed after the great sex we just had. The fact that you were trying to help me clean up in the bathroom and changed the sheets on my bed. You're going all mother hen on me.”

Lassiter clenched his jaw. “I should have had more control.”

“Am I complaining?” When Lassiter didn’t answer, Shawn sighed. “Look, yes maybe we got a little carried away but I like getting rough and wild on occasion. Though next time we should probably take it a little easier.”

Lassiter tilted his head down to look at him. “Next time?”

“Of course. Did you really think I would let a great lay like you get away after one go?” Shawn shook his head. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Lassiter didn’t say anything for a moment, but Shawn could feel him starting to relax. “Who said I wanted to?”

Shawn grinned. “Not me. But don’t think I’m just going to put out for nothing. I’m not saying we have to do dinner again; a movie would be good to.”

“There’s that new movie with those robot things,” Lassiter said slowly.

“Sounds like a date.” Lassiter tensed up again and Shawn sighed. “What now?”

“We’re really doing this? Dating and all?” Lassiter asked quietly.

“Um, yeah. I thought that was what you wanted.” Shawn frowned. “Did you want to keep things more casual? We can just hang out and fuck around.”

“With other people?” Lassiter asked sharply.

“Well, I might hang out with Gus but I only plan on having sex with you.” He poked Lassiter in the chest. “Jealous, much?”

Lassiter sighed heavily. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, I like it,” Shawn said. “But seriously, what’s the deal? Why are you freaking out now?”

“I should ask you why you’re not freaking out,” Lassiter said. “I didn’t figure you for a commitment kind of guy.”

Oh. So that’s what was going on. “I’m not going to run away if we start dating,” Shawn said. “When I find someone I really like, I stick with them.” He shrugged. “It just doesn’t happen that often.”

“If we do this, no messing around with other people. We’re exclusive,” Lassiter said seriously.

“What if Gus and I are finger painting? That could get messy.”

“Shawn – ”

“Or what about a threesome? We would both be there, so that wouldn’t really be cheating or anything.”

Lassiter grabbed his chin and forced Shawn to look him in the eye. “You. Me. No one else.”

“No threesomes?”

“No threesomes.”

Shawn nodded. “I can live with that, as long as I can still finger paint.”

“To your heart’s content. Just don’t make a mess of my stuff while doing it.”

Shawn snickered. “Doing it.”

Lassiter sighed. “What am I getting myself into?” he muttered.

Shawn stretched up and pressed a kiss to Lassiter’s lips. “Me.”

Lassiter smiled. “Guess I can live with that.”

Shawn settled back down on top of Lassiter and yawned. “Good.”

Lassiter gently ran his fingers through Shawn’s hair. “Sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”

“’K,” Shawn mumbled, already halfway there. Lassiter chuckled and Shawn wanted to ask what was so funny but before he could he fell completely asleep.

* * *

Lassiter’s sleep muddled mind couldn’t figure out where he was at first or why there was a warm weight draped over him. He blinked as he stared around the room, wondering who in the world would have a giant pencil next to a gumball machine in their bedroom.

The warm weight mumbled and rolled off him. Lassiter turned his head and could just make out messy brunet hair and a decidedly masculine body. Details from the evening started to return and he let his gaze travel over his bed mate. Shawn was relaxed in sleep, appearing a good deal calmer than he ever did while awake, and didn’t appear bothered by the strenuous activities that had happened in this bed earlier.

A trill next to him had him turning his head. His phone’s screen was lit up, proclaiming the arrival of a text message. That was probably what had woken him; he had conditioned himself to wake up whenever his phone went off. He grabbed it, squinting at the bright screen. Shawn moaned and turned away from him, curling into a ball on his side.

He quickly set the phone to vibrate before checking his messages, hoping this wasn’t work related.

All three were from O’Hara. The first was a couple hours ago, while he was still busy with Shawn. He must not have checked his phone before falling asleep.

_ O'Hara:  _ _**How was your date? Still mad at me?** _

The second was two minutes ago, the one that woke him up.

_ O'Hara:  _ _**Hey, are you still up? Everything okay?** _

_Well, now I am_ , he thought grumpily. He swiped over to her last text.

_ O'Hara:  _ _**If you don’t answer, I’m heading over there.** _

Lassiter cringed. O’Hara knew he was usually prompt about replying to her texts, even if just to tell her to leave him alone. She was probably worried something had happened to him. He quickly sent a reply text.

_ Lassiter:  _ _**I’m awake.** _

She responded seconds later.

_ O'Hara:  _ _**Finally!** _ _**So how did the date go?** _

Lassiter looked at the man sleeping next to him.

_ Lassiter:  _ _**Spencer is still alive.** _

_ O'Hara:  _ _**And? Details!!!!** _

Lassiter sighed. He’d have to tell her something or she wouldn’t leave him alone.

_ Lassiter:  _ _**We had dinner, then I drove him home.** _

He could imagine O’Hara’s exasperated sigh as she wrote the next message.

_ O'Hara:  _ _**I’m coming over early with coffee and you’ll tell me everything.** _

That certainly wouldn’t work. Shawn wasn’t likely to let him leave in the morning without accosting him for sex, sore or not. He would have to rush home as it is to grab some clean clothes. He was not going to be one of those officers doing the walk of shame into the station after a night spent with a lover.

_Lassiter:_ _**You can’t. Will be running late in the morning. Will see you at work.** _

There was a long pause before O’Hara responded.

_O'Hara:_ _**Where are you right now?** _

He didn’t want to get into explanations now through text messages and really did not want her to call. That would wake up Shawn and he was enjoying the peace he had right now. He also didn’t want to lie, as she would make his life miserable when she found out.

_ Lassiter:  _ _**In bed.** _

O’Hara’s next text came quickly.

_O'Hara:_ _**Yours or Shawn’s?** _

Lassiter sighed. Damn her for being so perceptive. It made her a good detective but it was annoying when she applied her skills to his personal life.

_Lassiter:_ _**Shawn’s.** _

It seemed to take a long time for the next message to come in, though his phone only said it was a minute.

_O'Hara:_ _**Woo! I win $20! I’ll grab muffins along with the coffee to celebrate whenever you get in. Take all the time you need ;)** _

He wasn’t sure what O’Hara meant about the money but he was glad she was happy with what happened. Considering how far she had gone to get them here, she better. He would need to have a talk with Shawn in the morning about how many details he wanted shared. He knew O’Hara would hound both of them and he was worried about how much Shawn would be willing to tell her.

He put the phone back on the night, knowing O’Hara wouldn’t contact him again unless it was absolutely necessary. Shawn was still curled on his side, facing away from him. Lassiter moved closer until he was pressed along his back and wrapped an arm around him. Shawn sighed, the tight ball of his limbs loosening and a small smile gracing his lips. Lassiter tucked his head against Shawn’s shoulder, breathing in his scent, and let himself fall back asleep. He, too, had a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I doing the final edits on My True Love Gave to Me today and should have the next chapter up in a few days. I'll try not to leave everyone hanging so long this time.
> 
> As always, reviews are appreciated and I am working on answering them.


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